


The Sly Russian

by JantoJones



Series: Brief Briefings [32]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 01:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8514091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: Napoleon realises that Illya is a fraud.





	

It was Illya's first day back at HQ following a week and a half of sick leave. He had taken a bullet to his upper thigh, and had only been allowed out of medical after two days on the promise he wouldn't show his face at work for at least two weeks. Naturally, Illya was bored after just two days. He endured six days of being trapped in his apartment before he was on the phone begging to be allowed light duties. Dr Barrie didn't have the strength to deal with the Russian's constant calls, and after two days he relented. Illya was allowed back, but wasn't permitted to do anything more strenuous than paperwork.

Knowing that driving would be difficult for him, Napoleon had volunteered to drive Illya to work and was surprised at how easily he was walking. The Russian had a slight limp, but you'd only see it if you were looking for it. Solo remembered having a similar injury himself and had it had taken a month for his gait to normalise. As they walked through the corridors of U.N.C.L.E. Napoleon noticed that Illya's seemed to become much more pronounced whenever they passed groups of women.

Nothing about Illya's demeanour called out to the ladies, but they all looked at him with absolute sympathy. If anything, Illya's body language was pretty much saying what it usually did, 'don't bother, I'm not interested'.

When they reached their office, Napoleon waited until his partner was comfortable before confronting him with an accusation.

"You, Illya Nikovich Kuryakin, are a fraud!"

Illya peered at him through the yellow-tinted glasses he had just put on.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, showing no emotion.

"As if you don't know," Solo stated. "You're deliberately playing on your injury to elicit sympathy from the ladies. And you're always saying you have no interest in dating the girls here."

Illya tried not to smile, but he couldn't stop himself.

"As an agent, I do what I must to get what I need," Illya told the American. "But, it isn't for dating purposes."

"Okay, I'll bite. What are you up to?"

"Well, if the ladies think I can't get to the commissary without pain, they'll bring tea and food to me."

Napoleon's laugh was loud and explosive.

"You're one sly Russian, Tovarisch."


End file.
